


C'est La Vie

by reosian



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Cedric Diggory Lives, F/M, M/M, also harry is more based off book harry than movie harry, i made this cause i didnt want cedric dead lmao same w sirius, onesided cho chang/cedric diggory
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-09-15
Updated: 2019-10-22
Packaged: 2020-10-18 22:36:14
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Underage
Chapters: 4
Words: 13,296
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20646797
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/reosian/pseuds/reosian
Summary: The story of Harry Potter retold though a different lens and a different hand. Things will change and things will stay stagnant, such as life but do not fret. This is a happy story, loss will always be there but in this world there is happiness as well. And it all starts with the childhood love and admiration that a young Cedric Diggory feels for the Boy Who Lived.





	1. So This Is love?

**Author's Note:**

> so fair warning..never wrote a hp fic before and if things seem a bit off, thats all on me  
but i do wanna say! harry is closer to book! harry with a few twists so if he seems ooc from movie him then thats why!
> 
> i'll be doing lil changes to each other of the characters to either resemble their book or movie counterparts more! 
> 
> also sorry its so short...i just wanted to get the first chapter out

Every young wizard grew up hearing the tales of The Boy Who Lived, his legend was memorized by mothers and fathers everywhere. He was made of glory and heart despite being only a young babe. Cedric had only been a few years old when the boy was made legend, the story of young Harry had become his nightly bedtime tale. Of course, he got older and his interest had grown deeper as he would find books on the Potter family and their history. A series of surprises had struck him in his formative years, learning that the Boy was a half-blood was the first. Cedric, in his child-like state, had believed that the boy would be a pureblood. It only seemed logical at first, blood purity was held in high regard and of course, Cedric was but a child and couldn’t fully process it. He seemed to understand that a pureblood would be the only type of wizard to survive Voldemort’s attempt on their life.

That was not the case.

Harry Potter, The Boy Who Lived, was _not_ a pureblood by any means. He was a half-blood, a term that young Cedric barely understood at the time, but it was enough for him to regard that status as something to be prideful in. Afterall, if one was a half-blood then they were one step closer to the savior in legends. In ways, he was even envious of Harry’s half-blood status despite his own pureblood lineage.

The next surprise was learning that Lily Evans-Potter, the mother of the legend, was a muggle-born woman. A newfound respect settled in him. Perhaps the nonsense that some purebloods, including his father, spouted was really nonsense as his own mother stated. The idea of blood purity was a common topic in the conversations he witnessed between his father and other pureblood wizards they met. But Lily Potter was truly a most powerful witch despite her muggle parents, a truth in the argument that blood purity was _not_ a determining factor in magic and its power.

The last surprise was perhaps the most anti-climactic of them all. After learning the boy of legend was a half-blood, his mother a muggle-born witch and a most powerful one at that. Learning that James Potter, his father, was the heir to the Potter estate was as exciting as tasting a slightly sweeter than normal mug of hot cocoa. The Potter estate was a pureblood family of great power and influence despite their desire to not broadcast it around. But one would have been a fool to try and challenge that notion, and so the estate and its contents were locked due to the death of last heir. It was believed that they would be reopened to his son once Harry began his attendance at Hogwarts.

But none of that was interesting to young Cedric, after all most of his fantasies up until his own acceptance were simply of just how amazing the legendary boy could appear. Would he stand tall, shoulders squared in the face of adversity? Or perhaps did he fall in line with the Malfoy’s, cold and stoic with a heart that barely seemed to beat? Maybe he was kind, a gentle soul who was the picture of peace? He had many visions of how the mysterious Harry Potter would appear to him in his first year and his parents often humored him. Sometimes they shared glances that Cedric never understood, never bothered to because his mind was so taken by the mysterious Potter boy.

It was a bit obsessive at first, some of his own housemates would agree with this statement as they jokingly referred to him as the PotterPedia but that would eventually die down as his schooling became important. Of course, in his off time, his mind would drift to the mysterious boy and sometimes he would remember that it was simply a matter of time before the boy wonder would attend Hogwarts. But those thoughts would leave as soon as they came, pleasing his father was soon becoming a much more important goal than the what if’s and how’s of a young Potter boy.

In fact, it was all forgotten until the entrance ceremony of the new first years during his third year at Hogwarts. He was joking around with his friends until Mathieu, a young Frenchman and one of his closest friends, slid in besides him with a look that was up to no good.

“Oh- I know that bloody look anywhere, what is it LeBeau?” Another one of his housemates, Nick, spoke up giving the other a look.

“Language.” Cedric chided, all in good fun as his friends laughed and gave him playful nudges.

“You won’t believe it! According to some of the second years, Ced’s lil idol is in this batch of first years!” It’s just a rumor and the intensity of it is almost comedic with how thick Mathieu’s accent is.

His surrounding friends and housemates are laughing, it’s friendly camaraderie at its finest and Cedric is inclined to laugh along with them until what he’s said finally settles in.

_‘Idol? Who could that be?’ _Apparently, the confusion was clear on his face, brows furrowed in mild confusion and a girl, Lizzie, gives him a shove on his shoulders.

“Don’t play fool, Diggory. Dear Merlin, you literally counted down days until Mr. Boy Wonder got here during your first year!” It’s all in playful fun but Cedric can’t help the bright flushing of his cheeks at the notion. Could anyone blame him? Harry Potter was the boy of legends!

“Oh, bug off Liz. I cannot be the only person who was eager to meet him, and I did NOT count down the days.” He retorts, the words dying off his tongue the longer he spoke. The look she gave him didn’t do much to help him either.

Before more could be said to save his own pride or before more jokes could be said, the doors opened to the Great Hall with the newest first years. They were all so young, eyes wide with curiosity as they all marched down to the stage of the hall. The third year can’t help but look over all the faces, looking for the one he’s been dreaming of for so long. He has no real image of Harry in his mind but he’s sure that the boy would have something, _anything_ about him that would show the world who he was.

Grey eyes search frantically but find nothing, there’s too many faces to look through and they’re all so far away as well. So, with a huff, he sits back down on his bench and waits in hopes that his name will be spoken when the students are called to take a seat with the Sorting Hat.

Names are called, some are of known families like the Malfoys and Weasleys, others are new like Granger. Each house celebrates their victory in securing a new member with cheers and laughter.

And then _his_ name is called.

“Harry Potter!”

The school goes silent and Cedric feels his heart stop, his breath is caught as he looks over to see the vision of his obsession. Harry looks nothing like what he imagined but he’s also everything Cedric could have pictured. He’s small, confused with a scrawny frame as round glasses frame his face. Cedric can barely spot the important details like his eye color, the flush of his cheeks as he scrunches his face, but it doesn’t matter. Not when the hat has declared his house

“_Gryffindor!_”

It’s fitting and he can’t find it upsetting to not have Harry in his house. Harry Potter was the poster boy of Gryffindor before he was of age to attend. Harry Potter is brave, courageous and determined. He is all that and so much more. Cedric doesn’t have to have known his story to say that, he can see it in the way the young wizard carries himself in the halls after the ceremony.

The weeks that pass are a blink in time, Cedric is left in awe every time he finds himself witnessing Harry Potter and all he is. Because where Harry lacks in height and in physical form, he makes up for it in personality and his expressions. Such as right now, Cedric had turned a corner to make his way to his potions class and he was sure that Snape would have his head for arriving late, but he couldn’t help it.

Malfoy had been trying to corner Harry, his two goons backing up the prat’s empty threats while Harry stood there looking scared. At least, that’s what Cedric had assumed but as he took a step closer, he realized he was wrong and a fool.

“Really, Malfoy. Pick new material with your bullying, I get that’s hard being original, but you should try it sometime.” The insult flowed so easily from Harry’s lips, almost like a spell and it had Malfoy sputtering like an idiot.

“Potter- You-“Malfoy could hardly get a word out, face turning red in anger and embarrassment and so Cedric decided that perhaps he should step in now.

“Picking on your peers now, Malfoy?” Cedric asked, voice clear and composed despite the nerves he felt at slowly becoming closer to Harry. The Slytherin seems shocked by his appearance but Cedric isn’t a prefect or Head Boy, he poses no threat and so he must appear like a threat of some sort. He stands tall which seems to be enough, seems like young Draco hasn’t gotten to learn who is a prefect and who isn’t. Which wouldn’t matter regardless, Cedric is a third year and he has a few years to go before he can even think of becoming one.

“This isn’t over, Potter.” Malfoy spits out and Harry is just as unimpressed as he was before.

“What a tragedy.” The boy says, rolling his eyes as Draco walks on by but he pauses in his joy to look back at Cedric.

For the first time, Cedric is breathless looking at Harry Potter.

However, he isn’t met with the look of indifference that was given to the Slytherin boy moments earlier. No, instead there’s eyes that are so green that Cedric could almost fall deep in the forest of them that stare at him with gentle caution before they disappear. Harry’s lips part in a thankful smile as he looks up at the third year, Cedric’s heart is racing against his chest and his cheeks begin to flush pink as he parts his lips to say something, anything to the boy wonder.

“Thanks for that, though I’d watch out for when Malfoy figures out you aren’t a prefect.” Is what Harry tells him, the kid is teasing him if that grin is anything to say as it morphs from grateful to sly within seconds.

Cedric is left gaping like a fish as he watches the way Harry gives his goodbye, walking off toward his next glass. He can’t even find it in himself to be mad when Professor McGonagall strikes him with a detention for standing there like a fool in the hallways. After all, what’s one mark on his record if it meant having to meet Harry Potter himself.


	2. To Know Him Is To Love Him

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Cedric and Harry have a proper first interaction and we'll delve a little more into Harry's side of things.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> thank you to everyone that's read this and liked it!!! also im so happy to see so many comments, i'll try to reply to who i havent soon, just a lil busy is all!!
> 
> so this fic has a lil trend of love songs as the titles of the chapters, mostly cause i wanted to have each chapter to have a title that resembled it...they arent actually based off said songs tho!  
also would like to mention that this chapter has some mentions of abuse at the dursleys, since we are speaking about harry and his state

With all things considered, Harry was no fool.

Sure, his legend and idol status weren’t known to him until stepping into this new world of magic and mystery. But as soon as he made his way into Hogwarts, he knew that regardless of such standing that this was just another means of survival.

And he knew how to survive, perhaps that was one thing he could thank the Dursley’s for with their abusive household.

Hence why the alarm went off in his head upon meeting Malfoy, the boy was trouble with how he spoke and viewed certain wizards as worth less than others. Something about ‘blood purity’ from what Ron and Hermione told him, he frankly thought it was stupid. Who knew wizards could be just about as backwards as the rest of the world? It was a let down if he were being honest.

For being a mere eleven years old, Harry knew many things and understood so much more than what he was given credit for. Like how he knew it was quite odd for the headmaster to be at his near beck and call, what an interesting power to give to a first year…

“’ey mate, you alright there? Lookin’ a lil lost in the clouds like a loon.” Ron asks, the humor is laced well into his words as he gives a playful nudge to Harry’s arm.

That manages to snap him out of his stupor, the words registering to him finally before he gives a laugh and shoves the ginger in return.

“Ron! You can’t just go around calling people a loon!” Hermione cuts in, her voice an ordered whisper as Ron just shrugs his shoulders in response and offering his tongue at her.

“It’s alright, ‘mione, ain’t nothing I haven’t been told before.” The words come without much thought, waving off any negative connotation that could’ve stuck to him.

His friends share a look, Ron is confused, but Hermione seems to understand him at a base level. It only took a good look at Harry to understand his attitude or upbringing, he was small for his age and was incredibly malnourished but thankfully was beginning to show some improvement on that front. So, Malfoy’s insults just rolled off him as if they were merely dirt in the wind, but that may have to do with how weak they were. Perhaps the effect would’ve hurt more if he gave a damn about the ‘blood purity’ that was being spouted by the families like the Malfoys.

Luckily, Ron has enough sense to not press questions and opts for a lighter subject.

“So ‘arry, what’s it like bein’ a first year on the quidditch team? How’d you even get in it?” Ron is genuinely confused and amazed, sure a small part of him is a bit bitter because he would have loved to do the same but its not Harry’s fault. Ron knows better than to just place blame.

“It’s new…barely knew quidditch was a thing before Professor McGonagall pulled me out of class to get recruited into the team.”

“Still! It’s amazin’, like you’re the coolest first year in Gryffindor maybe in general!” Ron exclaims, arms lifted in celebration, but he does get a few looks and glares from the first years at another table. The Weasley’s are known to be a bit loud and Ron seems to have forgotten that.

There’s the sound of choking and cup tumbling over in response, Harry whips his head around to see what’s happened as his cheeks begin to flush pink. He has to squint his eyes to focus but it looks like the upperclassmen at the Hufflepuff table are all fussing over one in particular. He resembles the third year from a few days ago, he can’t be sure though despite the fact this boy and the other share the same wavy chestnut colored hair. Maybe that’s just a Hufflepuff thing? Who knows.

“’arry…Harry!” Hermione’s call for his name are what strike him out of the daze he didn’t even realize he was in.

“What?”

“You were staring, a bit rude don’t you think?”

The look she gives him is one he’s become more acquainted with since their school year began. She’s unimpressed with him and he turns to look at Ron, hoping that his best mate would back him up. Ron just offers him a weak shrug, cheeks filled with their lunch because he’s more lost than Harry was moments ago. Harry just lets his shoulders sag; he doesn’t have the energy to defend himself if he was staring although he’s sure he wasn’t.

“I’m gonna head out, look around before class starts.” Harry announces his leave rather quickly, leaving Ron and Hermione to themselves for a moment.

It wasn’t like he didn’t enjoy their company, rather he loved it a lot but the attention from the other students was getting suffocating. Harry lived his entire life in the shadows, speaking only when directed or spoken to, lived on air practically but now? He is swarmed with stares and words, baseless promises to be friends because of something he did when he was too young to remember it all. Sometimes people rush up to him, hands grabbing his shoulders or an arm around his neck and he gets vivid flashes to when Vernon, he won’t even get called uncle unless forced from Harry’s mouth, beat him for perhaps breathing wrong or for just looking at Dudley. The touches made him want to flinch and cower, sometimes he wanted to grab back at them and force them off of his person. He couldn’t though.

No, the consequences for such things weren’t worth the possibility of being forced back into that home.

So, he pushes through it, he can deal with it being hard to breathe if it meant that he would be fed and given a bed to sleep on.

Harry is so deep in his thoughts he can’t hear his name being called from down the corridor, so lost in his anxieties that he can’t help but flinch in fear when a hand is grabbing at his shoulder. For that moment, he’s back at the Dursley’s and Vernon is holding a belt in his hand, its leather worn from how often its been used. Harry shrinks into himself, expecting something that won’t come as he squeezes his eyes closed.

“Potter… are you okay?”

The voice sounds muffled, but it isn’t any of the Dursley’s, he peeks an eye open and instead of a red, chubby face he’s met with worried grey eyes, chestnut hair in disarray because of what Harry has done.

In his fear, his magic has tried to encase him in what seems to be a shield and once it registers to Harry what he’s done, his eyes widen in mortification as he watches the shield fall apart.

“Oh Merlin, are you okay, Potter? Should I take you to Madam Pomfrey?” It’s the Hufflepuff from before, the one that managed to chase away Draco.

Harry parts his lips to say something but nothing comes out, he isn’t sure of what to say or how to explain himself.

Cedric, however, is horrified to see how immediate the reaction was from just a simple touch to the shoulder. He had followed Harry out of the Great Hall, he had wanted to ask him something about quidditch, but he hadn’t expected the reaction he got when he grabbed him.

Harry Potter, the Boy Who Lived, was terrified.

In that moment, Harry is just a boy and Cedric is merely another boy who has witnessed something he wasn’t meant to. Harry Potter, the legend, is simply that. He is just a legend because this boy right here, he’s just a child and was not raised in a life of luxury and love. And Cedric’s heart shatters, Harry is staring at him as if Cedric has raised his voice against him and the sudden appearance of a shield only worries Cedric further. What has been done to him to garner a reaction, who has hurt him so when Harry is the savior of the Wizarding world as well as the Muggle world. Cedric grew up believing that Harry deserved the world, he deserved to be loved after losing his parents and he deserved to be treated with respect because he had done what no one had done before. So, it hurts and confuses him to see Harry like this, he pulls his hand away because he isn’t quite sure exactly what set him off, but he won’t risk it any further.

“Do you need to see Madam Pomfrey?” Cedric tries once more, voice soft as he takes just the slightest step forward.

There’s silence but after a second, Harry finally responds.

“N-no, I’m fine. Just don’t touch me.” The words are soft, he’s clearly shaken up and Cedric is more than willing to oblige.

“Should I... leave? I didn’t mean to startle you, honest Potter.” He pauses, taking a deep breath before going on. “I’m so sorry for upsetting you.”

This causes Harry to finally raise his eyes to look at the older boy, he’s still trying to recover from his initial shock. He hadn’t expected the apology, especially one directed towards himself since he seldom got them. Its so jarring to see the other look ashamed, shoulders hunched with his eyes directed elsewhere for what seems to be Harry’s comfort.

His voice finally comes back as his mind registers that the boy isn’t a threat, that he won’t snap at him the way Vernon does.

“It’s…okay, I just… I just freaked out.” Harry tells him, taking a deep breath to soothe the remaining nerves.

Cedric isn’t convinced for a second, but he doesn’t have the strength to argue further that maybe he should be taken to the infirmary. So, he nods because he’s just about screwed up his first real conversation with Harry Potter and he isn’t quite sure he can salvage it. He takes a step back, ready to return to the Great Hall and eat away his shame cause of course he would mess up this bad.

“What were you going to ask?”

Harry’s voice sounds more leveled, more controlled when he speaks, and it makes Cedric finally look back at him. Its amazing almost, seeing how quickly he’s picked himself back up but that also means that he’s done this before, been reprimanded for showing fear.

“Well?”

Oh, right- He’s meant to answer.

“I… uh was going to ask… if it was true that you were on the quidditch team.” His cheeks have flushed red, in some way Cedric feels younger than Harry. There’s a certain air around the eleven-year-old that doesn’t feel so young, he feels older than he should, and it makes Cedric feel younger than he should.

“Oh… yeah, Professor McGonagall got me on the team as the seeker since I guess she liked my flying. Don’t really know.” Harry answers with such an air of nonchalance, like he doesn’t really understand how big of deal it is and maybe it’s cause he doesn’t. “Not sure if it’s a fluke or not, but it might be fun?”

For as unsure as he sounds, he still manages to stand his ground. Cedric is in awe; Harry is amazing for lack of a better term as he is willing to stand his ground and join quidditch without prior knowledge on it. Then something clicks for Cedric, Harry is what he’s envisioned him to be. He stands tall and strong in the face of adversity; he’s been thrust into an unknown sport but is willing to take it on. He is fragile within that and it makes him all the more real, all the more human and Cedric falls a step further.

“Question for a question?”

Cedric quirks a brow at this but makes a motion for him to go on.

“I don’t want to be rude but what’s your name, you chased off Malfoy a few days ago and I can’t really keep calling you ‘the boy’ when I mention it.” Harry says it with a bit of a laugh, faintly remembering when Hermione had told him repeatedly that it was rude to refer to an upper classman as a ‘the boy’ but he had never caught a name. So, he couldn’t really be blamed.

Cedric goes red once more, cheeks rosy as ever as his own mortification has come back. Had he really forgone his manners around him? Was his first impression around Harry Potter so utterly forgettable that he didn’t bother saying his name. But he clears his throat, hoping that it won’t betray him once he introduces himself. Oh, his mother will have a field day with this.

“Diggory. My name is Cedric Diggory, it’s a pleasure to meet you.” He says, voice giving away by the end of it all as he offers Harry a smile and holds his hand out to him out of reflex. He’s about to pull away when Harry takes it in his own and gives him a smile in return.

“Nice to meet ya, Diggory. I’m just Harry.”

It’s such a simple action, one that shouldn’t mean anything to anyone, but it means the world to Cedric and is the beginning of something new to Harry. Cedric can’t help but let out a chuckle at the introduction, he really was something else and its refreshing.

“Well just Harry, let’s get you to class and hopefully I’ll see you on the quidditch field soon.”

Now it’s Harry’s turn to be left sputtering like a fool before he hurries after the Hufflepuff, calling out to him about what he means and gets a tease in response. Cedric just smiles when Harry asks him if he even knows what class Harry has at the moment and Cedric just shrugs, mentioning how word travels fast about Harry in the school. That annoys him but he supposes its part of his life now, famous for something he can’t remember doing and he is a slave to the mob mentality surrounding his name.

When they reach Harry’s class, Cedric bids him goodbye and Harry does the same. There are no plans to meet up again, but something speaks to them that they will. Ron and Hermione eventually join him in the classroom a few minutes later, Ron takes his seat besides Harry and Hermione besides them at another desk. They had both been worried about their friend and his sudden leave but seeing him so relaxed and happy, they don’t ask too many questions. Ron opts for some jokes, hoping to get Harry to settle into the class like he’s done for the last week or two as it was clear to see that Harry, while bright, was still confused about the Wizarding World and Ron was more than happy to help him along when he needed it. Hermione is the one that manages to catch on that someone else is the reason for Harry’s bright mood, she doesn’t pester too much but when she asked if everything was all right, he had responded with a faint smile that it was. Her intuition tells her that someone caused this, she has to believe that, but she won’t tease him because this is something he sorely needs.

And Harry, well Harry spends a majority of his time thinking about how normally Cedric had treated him. He witnessed one of the rare panic attacks that he was prone to having and simply offered to back away, give him space in need be and did just that. He didn’t jump at the chance to ask him about Voldemort or what he had done, he had just wanted to ask a simple question and that was all Harry could ask for from someone and he got it.

It’s the beginning of something new, something wonderful and even if they can barely see it. The fates have already begun to weave the threads that will follow in their lives. There is another universe where this never happened, where fates design was ignored in favor of false prophecy, but such cannot happen here. No, not when Harry has finally been given a glimpse into something so wonderful and kind that came in the form of Ron Weasley, the boy who happily guided him in this new world and included him in his family like it was nothing. It came in the form of Hermione Granger, a vision of his mother even if he didn’t realize it, she was strong and bright for her age and tried to mediate despite her own social anxieties. And it came in the form of Cedric Diggory, an anomaly who was soothing to every part of Harry’s soul and seemed to be here to guide or protect Harry in some form.


	3. Winter Weather

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> harry's first quidditch match and some minor introspection

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this chapter is so long and its really cause like i needed to end it at a specific scene but so many scenes were necessary for this part so.....  
pardon me for it being so long   
i hope its worth the wait !

Word traveled fast about Harry’s recruitment into the Gryffindor quidditch team as well as his involvement in taking down the troll alongside Ron, suddenly there’s more people coming up to him. Some are girls, batting their eyelashes as they wish him a good game, and some are boys that are hyping him up with jealousy in their voices. Although there were some that had batted their own eyelashes in some way, if they did then Harry didn’t notice. Harry barely has time to focus on anything like the odd looks Professor Quirrell gives him every time he manages to execute a spell on the first go, he’s getting better at offensive and defense spells against the dark arts and Hermione is a great side tutor whenever he finds himself confused. Ron is hanging on, not that he isn’t following along just there are times when things don’t stick and it’s up to both Hermione and Harry to help him along. They work like a well-oiled machine, unstoppable when it comes to spell casting.

Harry has such little time to properly focus on the world around him, he’s trying to catch up on years lost of magic and he can’t be blamed for the way he seems to want to lay on the table and sleep despite the fact it’s breakfast at the moment. The only thing that seems to spark him into staying awake is the sudden arrival of a package that suspiciously looks like a broom.

“Well we outta open it!” Ron urges and Harry’s in shock from the sudden gift, he isn’t used to this and he can’t help but glance around in hopes of trying to figure out who has given it to him.

Then he finally meets eyes with Professor McGonagall, something is exchanged between their looks as she offers him a smile and he beams in return.

With the sender confirmed, Harry turns to open the gift with renewed eagerness as they all take turns at undoing the ties that keep it closed in the wrapping paper.

The broom is amazing, Harry doesn’t know what constitutes as a new broom, but this is top quality and he knows that. Especially if Ron’s awe and shock is anything to go by. He runs his hands along the shaft, and something sparks inside of him, something innate tells him that this is what he’s meant to have and what he’s meant to do. He could act like he doesn’t know but he knows it’s his father’s blood that runs within him, he follows besides his father in his steps without meaning to.

He’s nearly brought to tears by the gesture and meaning, Hermione watches her friend with a fond smile and Ron does his best to keep Harry’s tears from falling. This is something he’ll tell his mother in one of his letters to her, she already fancies Harry like another one of her own and in true Weasley fashion, Ron is begrudgingly happy to include him in his letters.

Once they’ve all come together, enjoying the happy mood that surrounds Harry, who is still in awe towards the gift, they finish their meals before hurrying out of the Great Hall. Hermione and Ron turn their heads in confusion when a rather loud _‘good luck’_ rings out but Harry’s head snaps in the exact direction it comes from, green meets grey and Harry beams once more before he’s being rushed out of the Great Hall. Ron begins to go off about Quidditch, quizzing Harry on what he needs to know despite the fact that Harry has a clear understanding that his job is simple. He’s a seeker, he needs to look out for snitch and once he spots it, he chases after it.

He needs to grab it and win, it’s simple.

Except it’s not, not when he’s now standing alongside the rest of the team with Oliver Wood doing the absolute least to soothe his worries. But it slides over Harry, Oliver’s rather handsome and Harry figures that if he just focuses on his face then the questionable statement of him going out cold won’t hinder him too much in the game. The team lines up, readying their position on their brooms as they hear the crowds surrounding the field scream in support for them.

And then, they’re off.

The teams fly around the arena, Harry feels as free as he has ever been before he takes his position. The feeling of the air beneath his feet with the wind blowing against his hair and face is something he never knew he needed. Professor Hooch has taken the role of referee and with a blow of the whistle as she tosses the quaffle into the air, both teams go after it and the game begins as the crowd screams in unison.

Harry is sat there, watching his team with envy but he doesn’t move because he knows that the possible win is dependent on him. Eventually, he looks towards the stands and he spots his two friends. Ron is cheering for his brothers so loudly but thankfully its mostly drowned out by the screams of the other Gryffindor students. Hermione happens to be cheering alongside him, jumping up and down when they score points and Harry can’t help but smile. His attention is brought back to the game when Oliver is knocked down to the ground, his heart begins to beat hard against his chest, but he still can’t make a move as the snitch hasn’t even made its round to him.

Nibbling at his bottom lip, he glances and by either luck or chance, grey meets green once more and his worries begin to smooth over. Cedric is looking at Harry with a look he can’t really describe but it’s almost like the older boy is in awe of him. A grin splits its way onto Cedric’s face, arms raised as he cheers and Harry’s cheeks begin to flush, it’s so new to have someone cheer for him but he can’t stay flustered for long.

No, not when the snitch has finally fluttered its way into his vision and then he’s off.

The wind causes his hair to whip against his face, robes flap in the wind as he chases after it. The adrenaline is pumping, and he feels free once more, nothing matters to him. It’s a simple game of chase, one he is happily playing as he zips around the field, dodging the Slytherin seeker that keeps trying to push against him. He’s finally free of the other seeker, the bludger hurling Harry’s way is what chases him off and he looks forward to trying and search for the snitch again when suddenly it begins to go wrong.

The broom begins to rock to every which way, denying Harry’s directions and the poor boy is forced to hold onto it as hard as he can. His balance is being shaken and the parts of the crowed are forced into nervous shock. Most of the Slytherin students are having a field day, trying to take this as a chance to cheer for their own team.

Hermione and Ron look at Harry in shock, someone shouts out the question they’re all wondering.

_“What’s he doing?!”_

Hermione and Ron exchange looks between one another, Harry’s a much better flyer than he’s showing right now. They aren’t quite sure what to do, Ron turns to look at their professors for some help while Hagrid watches Harry with worry written all over his face. And he isn’t the only one, on the end of the arena Cedric wears the same expression. He feels like he can barely breathe, he’s knuckles go white from how hard he’s clenched them, and he gasps when Harry slips from the broom. He’s holding on but barely, shaking every direction as the broom continues to spasm.

Cedric isn’t sure of what to do, so he does something he hasn’t done since he was a young boy. He prays, he prays that this will end up alright and thankfully, Hermione has decided to trust her instincts. It goes against her very being to be critical of a teacher, but she remembers something Harry had mentioned that morning about Snape. So, she takes Hagrid’s binoculars, taking a look over at the section filled with their instructors and takes one look at Snape, watching the way his lips move as if performing a spell with his gaze never once drifting from Harry.

“Ron look!” She yells, grabbing his attention as she thrusts the binoculars at him.

Ron takes them hurriedly; it takes him a moment to find what she was mentioning but once he sees it, he nearly drops the binoculars.

“What do we do?” He asks, face contorted into a mixture of worry and confusion as he watches Hermione pick up her coat and begin to shimmy out of the stands.

“Just wait here, I’ll go stop him.”

There’s such certainty in her voice and Ron has no choice but to trust her, he wishes her luck in whatever she plans to do before he looks back towards his friend.

Harry has been clinging on for what seems like hours, his arms feel like they’re about to give away and suddenly he loses the grip in one hand and now it’s up to just one. The broom is still erratic before it stills, it seems like it’s finally been put to an end and he won’t try and wait to see if it’ll start again. He calls on his remaining strength to pull himself back up onto the broom, his arms feel like they’re about to become noodles, but he can’t waste time on that. No, people are depending on him and he searches frantically for the snitch before it finally shows up once more.

He sets off once more, letting himself get lost in the wind as he keeps focus on the snitch and the Slytherin seeker is hot on his tail. The two zip through the field, trying to press each other out of the way and then they both dive down. The grass goes from looking like a blob to slowly becoming individual blades as they dive closer and closer to the ground.

The Slytherin pulls up before he can get any closer while Harry goes further before bringing up the staff his broom. He hovers dangerously above the ground, pulling himself up to balance his weight on as he reaches a hand forward. The snitch is so close within his grasp, fingers stretched open before his world turns upside down.

He can’t really remember exactly what happened aside from the fact that he had put a little too much weight on the very end of his broom, the force and speed of his flight causes him to tumble forward and he closes his eyes as he braces for the fall. He tumbles, the crowd of his admirers and peers goes silent as he finally lays flat on the ground. 

Picking himself up, the cheers fall onto deaf ears because the hit had stunned some of his senses into silence as he feels something flutter against his throat. He’s going to be sick; hands hold at his stomach as he readies the motions of throwing up. The crowd watches, his closest friends are sick with worry.

But instead of throwing up like they all had assumed, he ends up coughing up the snitch.

Eyes wide with confusion and awe, he holds the snitch up into the sky as he screams.

“I’VE CAUGHT IT!”

The crowd goes wild and Lee Jordan announces that Gryffindor has won the match much to Slytherin’s dismay. Harry is beaming at the praise for a job well down, his teammates join him on the ground and pull him into a hug while the two that had been knocked out had been taken to the infirmary early off in the game.

The Gryffindor house celebrates its win with a feast, but Harry has little time to actually be dragged to the feast, not when he’s dragged off to the side by Hermione and Ron. His two best friends hug him tight, both congratulating him and praising Merlin that he’s safe.

“As much as I hate to say it, you might have been right about Snape, Harry.” Hermione finally breaks the news to him, and he looks at her with a quirked brow.

“How so?”

“Hermione saw him hexing your broom while you were playing!” Ron nearly yells this, only lowing his volume when Hermione jumps at the chance to shut him up by covering his mouth with her hands. Harry’s own eyes widen at this, he had assumed that Snape had let the troll loose a few nights ago to try and get to the stone but after what Hagrid said. He thought he was being too harsh on the potions professor, seems like he wasn’t being harsh enough.

“I told you he was up to something; he kept giving me a look this morning.” Harry responds, brows furrowed in thought. It’s all so suspicious but they don’t have much proof of anything, after all Hagrid had said that Snape was there to protect the stone but that didn’t explain why Professor Quirrell was acting so off and secretive with Snape.

Giving a quick glance around them, Harry pulls the other two closer to him with his hands wringing together out of nervous habit.

“Tonight, we should try and see if we can get past…Fluffy.” He whispers, glancing between the both of them and although Hermione seems to be the most reluctant, she still agrees. “Hermione, do you remember what Hagrid mentioned about the dog?”

“Weren’t you listening?” Her chiding comes with a knowing smile, moving in closer to the two boys as she goes on. “If we play music, he’ll fall asleep and it’ll be easy to get past him.”

“Music? What kind of bloody music?”

“I don’t think the type matters much, Ron.”

To this, Ron scrunches up his nose and twists his mouth in a funny way to showcase his displeasure at the concept of having to play music before they finally break their little circle. It’d be rather suspicious if anyone saw those three grouped up like that, especially given that with the recent troll incident, certain professors had been keen to keeping an eye on them three.

Harry glances over at Hermione, she hadn’t answered his question yet and he figured that if he prompted her with a look or two, he’d get an answer.

Lips part, a question ready to go before he’s interrupted by Oliver from down the hall.

“Come on, Potter! It’s your first win, come and celebrate!”

The Irish boy is high on their win, cheeks flushed so red that Harry can even see it from where he’s standing. Oliver is standing there, waving the three of them down and they all turn to look at one another before shrugging.

Maybe they could put off the exploring for now, the holidays were coming up after all and well, there was a feast waiting for them.

The three of them rush down the hall, Harry feels free once more. Something feels so liberating about pushing against the air and while he might not be on a broom, it’s similar at this moment. They crash past the door, greeted by their housemates and Harry feels like he’s wanted for once. He belongs and this feast is his reward, a gift.

The feast goes on to be remembered in the next few weeks, especially when Gryffindor continues a winning streak with their new Seeker. A small rumor goes around, theorizing the young Potter must be part veela with how free and in tune he seems in the wind, but that rumor dies rather quickly, Harry is far too scrawny and while cute in his first year. He lacks the alluring beauty that belongs to veelas, although that opinion would be challenged by a few other students. Not that Harry would know, he’s far too invested in his own thoughts to ever really notice the way some people stare at him for reasons beyond just being the Boy Who Lived.

It is a blessing when the winter holiday comes around, many of the students have gone home and there’s finally room to breathe.

Ron has opted to go play in the snow, engaging in a friendly snowball battle with his brother’s and while Harry was invited, he politely declined as he was desperately craving some time to himself.

He pays little attention to where his feet guide him to, only realizing where he’s at when he hears the chorus of hoots. He’s made his way to the owlery and Hedwig is happily cooing upon seeing him there, he greets her with a smile and gentle runs the pads of his fingers against her feathers.

It’s nice. Being alone, he thinks.

Harry hadn’t ever thought he’d be one to search for his own solace from the world, given as he was often alone with the Dursley’s but perhaps that was why he searched for one. Not for the familiarity of it, but because he would be truly alone with his thoughts without Dudley banging at his door or Petunia yelling out orders during his sleeping hours. So, with his thoughts to himself and his company being Hedwig along with the other owls, he takes a seat on the sill and leans against the stone wall to keep himself steady. Hedwig perches along side him, keeping an eye on her keeper as she huddles closer for some of his warmth.

His thoughts swirl around the stone, brows furrowed as he wonders why it’s currently at Hogwarts if it’s such an important stone. The thought of keeping like that on school grounds sounds stupid in his opinion, it was endangering the lives of students and how poorly tracked was the stone that it was openly published on the paper that something ‘secretive’ was in the vault that had been broken into. It just didn’t make any sense. Thankfully, his thoughts begin to press elsewhere before he can become too angered. Instead of frustration for the lack of proper measures, he’s off wondering if his father would be proud of his job as a Seeker or if his mother would be proud and equally worried over him. The memories of his parents are fuzzy at best, but he’s been able to piece things together over the years, mostly about his mother though.

He had his mother’s eyes, that much he knew but he had found a picture of her in the attic once at the Dursley’s. His mother and Ron shared the same wild ginger hair, a color so bright you couldn’t miss it and with eyes so green, he was sure that his mother was rarity in looks at Hogwarts. His father, however, was seldom talked about but Harry understood that he resembled his father in his looks more minus his eyes. Would either of them be proud to find their son in Hogwarts? Come to his games if they could?

It hurts to think about, but they bring upon fond what-ifs about a life of where they never died. Hedwig seems to sense his slowly dampening mood, cooing as she presses her head against his arm to try and shake him out of it. It works but only for a moment, the boy offers the owl a smile as he pets her once more as his thoughts comes to a stalemate.

“You don’t need to worry so much, Hedwig.” He murmurs, hoping that the owl will understand. Hedwig gives a look; she doesn’t believe him much but there’s only so much an owl like herself can do.

Harry resettles himself against the sill, hand idly petting Hedwig’s feathers as he begins to mumble to Hedwig as a buffer between his thoughts.

“Dad woulda been proud, don’t you think?” He asks, Hedwig gives a knowing hoot in response.

“Bet he would’ve given me flying lessons too.”

Saying them out loud makes it feel a little more real, the vision of his parents is a little clearer, but the features are still fuzzy. Sighing, he moves to get off the sill because it’s become a bit chilly and sitting around the fire sounds like a good idea.

He dusts off his slacks, lifting his head to look at Hedwig to say goodbye to her but pauses when he realizes he isn’t as alone as he thought. Cedric is standing in the doorway to the owlery with a nervous look on his face, cheeks pinched pink as he holds something in his hand.

“Diggory?”

“Hm? - Oh I-… I didn’t mean to intrude…” His words are rushed, cheeks and ears pinched pink from either the cold or from the embarrassment of being noticed. Cedric struggles to keep his gaze at Harry’s face, the boy’s green eyes are hypnotizing to say the least and Cedric doesn’t understand why he gets lost in them so often.

“No worries, I was about to leave anyway.”

Harry offers the other a smile, but it doesn’t quite reach his eyes, he’s sure that spending some time with the Weasleys will bring up his mood and he’ll be able to forget the ache. He’ll be in a family, even if for just a few hours.

Cedric, being the caring young man, he is, notices just how empty Harry’s words sound, and he moves before he can even try to stop himself.

“I… might be overstepping my bounds but Potter- “

“Harry, just Harry…please.” The boy’s voice sounds so exhausted and it breaks Cedric’s heart, so he complies.

“-Harry… I know I don’t know anything really, but you shouldn’t beat yourself down.” He tells him, voice becoming softer as Harry looks at him with the most peculiar expression causing Cedric to give a cough. His fingers toying with the small package they hold behind his back.

Looking at Harry is a bit jarring for Cedric because instead of seeing the Harry he had seen weeks earlier, the confidence quidditch seeker. He sees the boy once more, the broken boy from the hallway. The boy who just wants praise, who just wants to be loved and it resonates with Cedric, he’s been the same way ever since he learned to walk and talk. Cedric wants nothing more than to take him in his arms and reassure him, he’s done it several times before with his own housemates, but this is different. The last time he touched Harry unannounced the boy’s magic had flickered dangerously, trying to protect him and Cedric was pushed back by the sheer force of it.

Harry’s lips part, ready to snap back at Cedric despite the boy’s earnest attempt to help him but he’s cut off as soon as he tries.

“You don’t have to talk to me, but I think that maybe… this holiday can be good for you.” Cedric confesses, whatever confidence he had now gone as he shifts his weight between his feet.

Harry opts to take a deep breath, trying to calm himself down as Hedwig gives another coo as a means of trying to calm him as well. Cedric watches the interaction and he worries that he might have done something wrong but is given a pleasant surprise when Harry just nods and offers a gentle thanks to him before he bids the Hufflepuff goodbye. He doesn’t smile this time, but Cedric will take what he can get, he helped and that’s all he really wanted to do.

Watching as Harry takes the steps down from the owlery, Cedric lips press into a thin line as he brings out the tiny wrapped box he had held away from the boy’s view. He had wanted to give him his gift early, seeing as Cedric only had a day before he was to leave for home, but it was hard to find Harry once the holiday began. The boy was always in his housemates tower or with Ron, seldom was he alone.

Coos and hoots stir him out of his misery, he glances over and spots the owl he had spotted Harry affectionately petting. Offering the owl a smile, he makes his way and holds his hand out to her, Hedwig stares at him for what seems like an uncomfortably long amount of time before she waddles her way to his hand and presses her head against his palm. With the given permission, he pets her gently before he shows the small gift to her. It’s nothing special, he’s a third year after all and he isn’t very rich despite his pureblood status. He had wanted to give a warm welcome to the young Potter boy, sure he did have the endless affection he held in reference to the boy and his legend but after slowly getting to know him. Cedric had newfound affection that he easily connected it to just wanting to be there for Harry, he was younger, and Cedric was a bleeding heart when it came to caring for others.

“Do you think he’ll like it?” Cedric asks, he doesn’t quite expect the owl to respond to him. So, he goes on. “It’s nothing special, just got him something that might help him out.” Hedwig cocks her head to the side, peering over to look at the tiny wrapped box that’s held together by a ribbon.

“Would you give this to him during Yule?” He asks, voice hopefully as he holds out the gift to the her. Hedwig seems to stare at the box, as if mulling the thought over before finally taking it. The Hufflepuff lets out a breath he hadn’t known he was holding.

“Thank you, I’ll make sure to return the favor.” It’s a small promise to the owl, he could bring up snacks for her or something, but she’s saved him the embarrassment of chasing Harry down for a gift that could be seen as mediocre.

Now all he had to deal with is the nerves of seeing Harry after the holiday, worrying of whether or not the gift was worth giving to him and nervously eating up the holiday cookies his mother made until he got back.

Thankfully, Christmas morning comes sooner than expected and Cedric is huddled in his home showered with his mother’s affection and his father’s praises. Harry, however, wakes up with little expectations as he had never gotten any gifts during his eleven years of life. He carries himself from his bed and to the common room, tired eyes opening in awe as he sees the Christmas decorations that shower the room and that Ron is standing besides the tree with all the gifts that lay there.

“Happy Christmas, Harry.” Ron says, rather fondly as he stares at his friend with a smile on his lips.

“Happy Christmas, Ron.” His eyes don’t meet Ron’s, too much in awe of the room around him as he makes his way towards the tree. He doesn’t look for any specific gift of his own, he wasn’t expecting any hence why he was so surprised when Ron shoved a lumpy looking package to him.

“It’s from me mum, you don’t have to wear it though.” Ron tells him, cheeks slightly flushed at the idea of his closest friend having received an infamous Weasley sweater.

“For me?” Harry parrots, looking at the package in awe before he begins to open it.

He has no expectations of what it could be, so when he sees the hand-crafted sweater with the obnoxious letter ‘H’ knitted into it. He’s brought to tears almost, holding it to his chest as he looks up at Ron with a smile as the wrapping falls to the ground.

“Tell your mum I said thank you, it means a lot.” Harry tells him. To get something so personal from someone he has yet to properly meet, it’s such a wonderful feeling and even if the sweater isn’t the most expensive looking thing. It doesn’t erase the charm of it being made just for him, the charm of belonging in the Weasley family that has already been so kind to him.

Ron is stunned, he had expected Harry to laugh or call it ugly, maybe even both but Harry is genuinely thankful for the gift, clutching it close to his chest and Ron suddenly feels silly for thinking that Harry would’ve done those things. Harry has been nothing but grateful since the start of the year, he’s been so polite to the twins when they play their pranks and indulges them alongside Ron. He even listens to what Percy says, trusting the older boy to guide him proper.

Then he remembers the other gifts that lay in wait for Harry to open them.

“Oh! You have this as well.” Ron tells him, picking up the small box he had seen Hedwig bring in the morning to their room. He didn’t bother to read the name that was written, it wasn’t his business anyway and he figures that he should pry too much. Harry will tell him when he opens it. Hopefully.

The tears that had welled up in Harry’s eyes begin to shine at the mention of another gift, hand shaking as he takes the small box from Ron’s hand.

It’s so small, fitting into his hands and his brows furrow because this wasn’t from Ron or his family or he would’ve said so. The mystery of the sender is solved rather quickly by a little paper that is tied to the box.

_“To: Harry_

_From: Cedric Diggory”_

The way Cedric had written his name causes Harry to smile before he goes undo the ribbon that ties it all together, pulling apart the paper wrapping before he finally gets to open the box. He isn’t quite sure what to expect, after all Cedric had no reason to give him anything. When he finally spots it, he can’t help but laugh as he takes it out of the box.

It’s a toy version of the snitch, it flutters in his hand but won’t fly unless Harry wants to play with it.

Ron looks over at it and gives a laugh, hiding it behind his hand before finally speaking up.

“Who got you that?”

“Diggory, guess he figured I really liked playing quidditch or something.”

The ginger isn’t a fool, he spots the fond look in Harry’s eyes and he knows that whoever Diggory is must have been another student that treats Harry as just Harry. Especially if his name had brought _that_ smile to his face. Whoever the guy is, Ron has a thank you to give him.

Harry looks at the toy for a little while longer before he places it back in the box along with the ribbon. He sets his gifts on the table before he spots the last lumpy package on a chair.

“Whose is that?”

Ron looks around before he spots what Harry is referring to and he grins, hands in his pockets.

“That mate is all for you, dunno who brought that in but it’s yours. That much I know.”

The boy gives his friend a look, he knows Ron isn’t lying but he can’t help but be careful as he places his gifts on the table. A part of him doesn’t want to let them go, afraid that once he does, they’ll be taken from him, but he pushes the thought from his mind as he goes to his last gift. There’s a letter placed upon it and he takes it, opening it quickly to read it’s contents.

“Your father left this in my possession before he died. It’s time it was returned to you. Use it well.” The letter is ominous, even more so as Harry reads it aloud, but his heart is beating at the thought of owning something that was once his fathers.

Eagerly, he takes the wrapping apart and finds himself looking at a gaudy looking cloak as he stands up with it in his hands.

“Well what is it?” Ron asks, popping a sweet into his mouth as he watches.

“Looks like some kind of cloak?” Harry isn’t quite sure if that is what it actually is as he continues to examine it.

“Well put it on!”

With that, Harry throws the fabric over his shoulders and is surprised by Ron’s exclamation of shock and awe. Confused, he looks down and his eyes widen at the fact he can’t see his body anymore.

“My body’s gone!”

“I know what that is! It’s an invisibility cloak… they’re pretty rare though, how’d you get it?” Ron is clearly more into the cloak than Harry is, whereas Harry is more touched that he now owns something that his father once had. He can’t help but wrap it tighter around his body as if it were his father holding him.

“Don’t know…they just mentioned to use it wisely. What do you suppose that means?” He asks, looking over at Ron with head tilted just slightly and Ron simply shrugs, he’s not sure but that was a mystery they could solve later. It’s Christmas, a time to enjoy their family together with Harry as the honorary Weasley once he slides the jumper on and places his other to gifts away so no one else can see them. This was a Christmas to remember because it finally felt like Christmas to the young man.


	4. Stay With Me

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> remember the mirror scene? yeah thats a thing

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> first of all i wanna say i am so SORRY i haven't updated, depression just fuckin hit me like a bitch and i was just super unproductive, pls forgive me i will hopefully write more frequently in the coming weeks cause i am honestly doing A LOT better  
and i know this chap is a bit short in comparison but like! i will conclude movie 1 with the next chapter!  
the one thing i will note is i am changing canon just here and there, more or less to fit my personal views of how i feel like things should be expressed  
btw if anyone likes mha and katsudeku...imma be rewriting an old katsudeku fic i started last year....

In retrospect, the invisibility cloak was a terrible gift of freedom to Harry, and Ron was more than ready to go along for the ride. They tested it a multitude of times, sneaking past McGonagall when she monitored the halls and then it was a game of trying to sneak past the paintings on the walls, although Harry had a feeling they knew. He remembered some of them murmuring something along the lines of it being like old times. It didn’t make sense, but then again none of the paintings have really made sense to Harry, it’s not of importance though. At least not now when he’s struck with a sudden memory as he’s seated in the Gryffindor common room reading through a book that Hermione had left behind, something about how it would help him later on in their studies.

_Hermione had trudged her way through the Great Hall, her suitcase rolling against the stone flooring behind her. The two she had been searching for hadn’t even noticed her making her way, Harry’s brows furrowed in concentration as he stared at the chessboard. Ron, however, was looking smug as ever as he took note of Harry’s next move. _

_“Queen to E-F.” _

_Ron looks rather sure of himself and for good reason. As for once his queen moves, she grabs at her throne and smashes Harry’s knight. The boy in question looks defeated, if he loses this will be his third loss in a row._

_“That’s totally barbaric!” _

_Hermione is shocked as ever; sure, she had grown used to the concept of magic and wizardry but such things like this were still new. Even unnecessary in her young mind. _

_“That’s Wizard’s chess.” Ron says, still smiling rather smugly where Harry just smiles to himself as he follows Ron’s gaze to Hermione. “I see you’ve packed.”_

_“I see you haven’t.” _

_The back and forth between Ron and Hermione is oddly heartwarming to Harry, it feels almost sibling like to him although he’d never say it out loud. Too afraid that such a statement would chase them away. So, he watches them, eyes flickering between the both as Ron mentions his parents sudden trip to Romania to visit his eldest brother. _

_“Oh good, you can help Harry then.” Hermione says, looking at the both of them with a smile pulling at her lips as she goes on. “He’s going to go to the library to look up information on Nicolas Flamel.” _

_This causes Ron to let out some mixture of a groan and a sigh, utterly defeated as he looks over at Harry._

_“We’ve already looked about a hundred times!” _

_But before he can complain any further, Hermione leans down onto the table and the boys lean closer to her. Sure, Hermione might be a bit rough in terms of friendship and how she goes about it, but they know when to listen. After all, it is Hermione and she’s the smartest out of their trio._

_“Not in the restricted section.” With that, she pulls away with a rather coy look and departs with a “Happy Christmas you two” _

_Ron and Harry exchange a look before shrugging it off, they’d tend to that at a later time. Right now, it’s time for a rematch and Harry is determined to win this round. _

Harry scrambles out of his seat; the book is forgotten as he grabs a lantern left behind by one of the older girls on a nearby table before he hurries up towards his room. He’s careful to stay quiet when he sneaks back into his room, grabbing his cloak before Ron can wake up from his scurrying about. It was the only helpful thing he learned living with the Dursleys, being quiet and invisible were his superpower so to say. Well, perhaps literally now knowing he had the cloak with him.

Maneuvering around the castle is easier than he expected it to be, he’d been told that many of the ghosts were patrolling and known for being a bit of snitch when the younger students tried to sneak around. Apparently, there were some Head Boys and Girls that were known to patrol in the late hours, but he hadn’t spotted a single one yet, the only minor bump was the fact he had almost bumped into Filch’s cat, Mrs. Norris. Which would have been a disaster had her owner been besides her.

Aside from that minor bump in the trip to the library, everything was going rather well. Flich was nowhere near him and it seemed like he was free to do as he pleased so long as he stayed quiet. Although, Harry was minorly confused by the lack of awareness from the man because he was sure the light of his lantern would have given him away or perhaps maybe the cloak was able to hide it. Honestly, magic made no sense and he wasn’t going to dwell on that when he needs to find that book Hermione had hinted at. Harry was sure that he had wandered like a fool for a good minute or two before finally reaching the restricted section of the library, which he honestly wouldn’t have even known it was there if it wasn’t for her odd obsession with reading every single book the school had to offer. He scans each book he walks past, noting the chains connected to them as his eyes flicker over each name and he has to squint at some. The lettering faded or his vision failing him in the dark night, eventually he comes across the section where the book should be and pulls the cloak off his head so he can get a better look.

“Flamel…flamel….where are you..” Incoherent mumbling is the only sound amongst the empty library.

It doesn’t take long for him to find what he’s searching for, pulling out the book with a sense of pride mixed with relief. However, that all fades the second the book begins to scream when he opens it. He shuts it as fast as he can, panic rising in his throat as he shoves it back into it’s slot. The doors to the room open, Filch marching down the aisles in search of whoever was in there and so Harry grabs his cloak and slips it over his head, rushing out of there as fast as he can without making too much noise. He coves his mouth and nose periodically when Filch gets close because he isn’t sure if the old kook had some special senses or something that made him ideal for this job, and he isn’t willing to chance his luck with that. The only thing that slips the young man’s mind is the lantern he’s dropped, adrenaline pumping his blood that the thumping of its flow deafens his ears to everything that wasn’t Filch or himself.

Harry can hear Filch calling out for the mysterious student breaking curfew, which if he had the luxury of laughing, he would’ve because who in their right mind would answer such a stupid call? Oh, well Dudley might’ve.

He manages to make it out unseen, careful to keep his steps light as he rushes down the hall. Harry doesn’t get very far down the hall when he comes across Snape cornering Professor Quirrell, grabbing the man by his robes and forcing him against the wall. His heart beats faster now, watching the two with wide eyes as he takes slow careful steps away from them. Harry can barely catch what is being said, what he does manage to hear confirms his earlier suspicions but there’s no time to dwell as Snape stops. Almost as if he can feel the young man’s gaze upon him, turning to look in Harry’s direction as the boy puts a hand over his nose and mouth to muffle his own breathing as he takes slow step backs.

His heart jumps in his throat as Snape grabs at the air, if he had only been a step closer than he would have been caught and his legs nearly turn to jello when Filch comes to the two professors. He must have said something about the suspicion of a student wandering the halls because the two men look at each other before they rush after Filch in search of the mysterious student.

Harry lets out the breath he had been holding as he rushes out the door at the end of the hall, the one he had been planning to go through before he walked in on whatever was happening between his professors.

The room he walks into is barren, the moon illuminating the stone floor and pillars but it’s empty and so he drops the cloak. It was becoming stuffy under that thing and fresh air was much appreciated. Looking around, he doesn’t spot anything of interest at first until he comes across a lone mirror in the middle of the room.

Now he wouldn’t be Harry if he didn’t snoop around, which is exactly why he did just that.

Small tentative steps forward, afraid that if he stepped too fast the mirror would signal his presence or maybe it would be like that mirror in that old movie Snow White. One could never be too sure. Yet, as he made his way to it the mirror began to reflect his person as he finally stood before it with a curious glance.

It grows misty, almost like pixie dust being kicked in the wind and suddenly his mother appears besides him. His heart is caught in his throat once more, she looks at him with those eyes of hers. Harry has just faint memories of her, but he knows those eyes well, he dreams of them looking after him and she meets his in the mirror. Her eyes are much sadder than in his dreams, something bittersweet to them and his gut twists cause he knows she isn’t besides him. The mist begins again, he looks to his mother for guidance and she seemingly only smiles in the way most mothers do. It’s knowing and he has no reason to doubt her, even if she is just a reflection. The mist finally fades and reveals his father, it’s then that it strikes him how young his parents were. They both hold such youthful faces; his father is kissed by the sun with a boyish charm that oddly reminds him of the Hufflepuff. His mother is the same, something about her is much like Hermione, he can’t place a finger but something about the comparison is right. His parents join arms around his shoulders and though he cannot feel the physical weight of their bodies.

He feels their essence surround him.

Harry is held by his parents, tears pooling at his eyes because he loves this feeling and a part of him, a very deeply hidden part of him has ached for this touch again.

However, he knows they aren’t there.

His mother places a hand on his shoulder in the reflection, consoling her son as he raises a shaky hand to grab at hers, but it lands on his own arm instead.

The tears are free flowing as he finally looks to either side of him and behind, only finding them nowhere insight and he breaks down for the night. Grabbing his cloak, tossing it over his head as he rushes out of that room, maybe he’ll try again and see them once more but for now he needs to sleep.

If he couldn’t see his parents in the real world, maybe he could dream of them tonight. Dreams of his mother’s warm eyes, his father laughs, and their hugs. Dreams where they would _finally_ be a happy family, where the Dursley’s wouldn’t make his life a living nightmare. Where everything was _right_.

When he finally wakes up, everything feels so fuzzy and he almost believes everything was a dream until he hears Filch trying to plead with McGonagall in the halls that he was _certain_ a student had been roaming the halls late into the night. That along with the woman’s knowing glance in his direction snaps everything into place for him, he remembers it all and most importantly the mirror.

The young Gryffindor rushes down the halls once he does, wiggling his way past the few third years that find themselves huddled in the halls for whatever reason. Thankfully, he doesn’t take too long to find Ron who was talking to a friend from their house.

“I need to borrow Ron for a moment!” He calls, not waiting for a response as he grabs Ron by the wrist as he continues to rush down the halls.

“Woah! Someone’s excited today!” Ron yells out after yelling out an apology to their housemate.

Harry says very little to Ron while they rush through the halls, only stopping when they get close enough, so they don’t cause too much of a scene. Although, that sort of went out the window with the two boys running mad like chickens without a head.

“Mate, not that I don’t mind the spontaneous adventure but where in the _bloody_ hell are you taking me?!” Ron’s question comes out in a panted whisper, thrown a bit under the wind with all the running they had just done.

Harry just shakes his head; he can’t say exactly where he’s taking him or what he’s expecting him to see because if he spoke it aloud so early. It would only hurt more if it wasn’t true.

It doesn’t take much longer to find the room again, Harry finally explains himself once they’re both in the room with the door shut behind them.

“There’s a mirror in this room, Ron, it showed my parents! My parents!” He exclaims in excited whispers as he pushes the ginger in the direction of the mirror. Eager to show his friend what he hoped wasn’t just wishful thinking. Ron rightfully gives him a look as if he were a loon, only shrugging when he realizes it wouldn’t hurt to see what the deal was with the mirror.

“Just look!” Harry urges, standing besides his friend although his own brows furrow in confusion when now the mirror doesn’t show his parents.

Instead the image this time has changed, Hermione is with them now and she looks just a few years older than them with her weight leaning on Ron. She doesn’t look as stern as she does now, something is lighter about her despite the mysterious glint in her eyes. This version of her smiles at his Ron, but that isn’t the confusing bit to the visage.

No, what’s confusing is the way Cedric stands besides him with a hand on Harry’s hip. Cedric is looking at Harry, not through the mirror but simply at Harry with such a meaningful look and yet Harry can’t exactly pinpoint what the feeling the boy is trying to convey.

Just as he’s about to ask his friend if he sees this new visage, he gets interrupted.

“I-I’m captain of the quidditch team...?” Ron seems so shocked, awe in his voice as he looks at himself in the mirror and Harry’s heart begins to crumble. “I’m even Head Boy!” He cries out, its bittersweet for Harry because he’s realized what this mirror is doing and yet, he doesn’t want to accept it. Ron, however, is having a ball with it. He’s in shock and awe at what the mirror is showing him, looking at his reflection like a king would and then he turns to look at his raven-haired friend.

“You don’t suppose this mirror tells the future, do you?”

Harry shakes his head, pulling away from Ron’s side as his arms fall against his sides.

“How can it? Both my parents are dead.”

He answers in a whisper, too scared to raise his voice any higher in fear of crying and Ron suddenly understands, maybe not entirely but he knows what his friend needs. And it is certainly not Ron’s gloating about his future self’s accomplishments. He needs a friend and so he wraps an arm around Harry’s shoulders, consoling him the best way a Weasley can which is some good old comfort jokes and assurance that they would spend the rest of the day together.

The two make their way back to their common room, joining each other on the couch as Ron happily shares his snacks with his friend. Both of them skirt around the idea of taking too much food, one used to a large boisterous family that had little money but knew how much everyone needed to eat and the other left with the scars of having asked for scraps only to be reprimanded. But in the end, they both take their snacks at different intervals and following an odd system of insuring that they both got half of what they ate. Never taking too much or too little. Ron tells Harry of his brothers and their antics, many of the fun ones happening when he was too little to take part of. Like the time that Charlie had tried to sneak a dragon into their home, oh the matriarch had a field day with that one. Although how Charlie thought he could get that past their mother, he would never know. Oh- and then there was the time that Bill had managed to sneak in some music from Muggle London, that was an interesting time. The music wasn’t terrible, but it was such a new experience for the household, although Ron can’t help but be confused by Harry’s laughter when he brings up that his brother had brought home some music that the Muggles referred to as ‘_the devil’s music’_, Ron doesn’t remember much else other than them being called Stones.

“They’re the _Rolling Stones_, not just the stones.” Harry says between his laughs, it wasn’t that funny, but it seemed to brighten his spirits. So, if looking like an idiot was what it took to make his best friend feel better, Ron was more than ready to play as his personal clown.


End file.
